


Of not-so evil Magisters and tired Inquisitors

by SaveTheFish



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Almost-sort-of confession, Character Study?, Couch Cuddles, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Like, M/M, POV Dorian, Soft Kisses, Sweetness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Your Dentist Would Hate This, tired lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25164010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaveTheFish/pseuds/SaveTheFish
Summary: Inquisitor Themael Lavellan doesn't know how to take a break. Luckily, Dorian is more than willing to help him.
Relationships: Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Of not-so evil Magisters and tired Inquisitors

**Author's Note:**

> It's ya gurl, getting into games 6 years too late and falling head-first into the fandom. I had to have a tab open with synonyms for 'soft' while writing this because it's. just. too. soft.

Never in his wildest dreams would Dorian have imagined he’d leave his homeland to join the Inquisition down south to destroy a Darkspawn magister and his pet Archdemon, all the while managing to maintain a flirty banter with said Inquisitions illustrious dalish Inquisitor. But he’d learned many times over that life didn’t always go the way you thought it would, and this was only made more clear as he opened the door to the Inquisitors private quarters with no one even batting an eye. For all they might gossip and gasp when their dear Inquisitor held the evil magister close and whispered sweet nothings in his ear they did nothing about it, and he knew some were relieved the elf had found someone to call his own. 

He climbed the final set of damnable stairs to finally reach the actual bedroom, finding Themael sat at his desk frowning down at some papers with a book open beside him and a half-drunk cup of coffee slowly going cold beside him. Dorian sighed, finally alerting the elf to his presence; for all his strengths Lavellan really didn’t know how to take care of himself. Everything needed doing, a hundred people needed saving, a thousand papers needed to be signed, and in the middle of all of that, Themael and everyone around him often forgot he was but a person; a single man tasked with the job of an army. 

A fond smile tugged at the man's lips as his eyes settled on Dorian, and in an instant the Altus knew he hadn’t slept, with bags under his eyes and a tired softness in his features that only came from his being awake far too long. “Vhenan.” He greeted him, obligingly tilting his head up when Dorian came forth to kiss him. 

“Amatus.” He responded, resting a hand at his neck and staying close enough that they were breathing the same air. “You look awful.”

Tem winced, guilt flickering across his face. His eyes trailed back down to the papers, hand once more reaching for the quill he’d been using. “Cullen and Josephine needed me to look over some papers, and Leliana wanted me to go over Hardings report from The Hissing Wastes, and there are some reports I need to fill out, and some requisition papers that I need to—”

Dorian kissed him again, just a soft brush of lips against lips to get him to stop rambling. That was one of the best things about dating him, being able to stop his nervous ramblings with nothing but a kiss. “Well if you don’t get some rest soon you’ll likely spontaneously die right here from exhaustion, and then I’d need to go to the farthest corners of the world searching desperately for some way to bring you back and it’d all be very dramatic and heartbreaking, but then who would be here to scandalize all of Thedas with the most unorthodox relationship this side of the century?”

The elf laughed faintly, leaning into the other's touch yet not releasing his grip on the quill. “I’m sure you’d figure something out.”

“Now, now,” Dorian started, trailing his hands down his lover's arms until he could wrap them around the others' wrists, tugging them up from the desk to press a kiss to his fingers. A soft blush spread across Tem’s cheeks, and he could practically see his resolve melting before his eyes. “Who do you think would be blamed for your untimely demise? That’s right, the evil magister here to seduce you into darkness and deceit, and I’m rather certain my subsequent execution could spark a national incident which is not what we need in this time of fade rifts and Archdemon's and whatnot.”

“And what do you suggest we do about it?” He asked, violet eyes pulled away from the papers to focus solely on him. Some would call that a small step forward, Dorian would call it winning the game.

“A small rest ought to do wonders.” He tugged at the others wrists. “Up you go!”

And immediately the elf’s eyes flickered back down to the papers. “I really need to finish this, we’re leaving so soon—”

Dorian pulled slightly harder, not enough to hurt but enough to get his message across. “Then you can work on it at the sofa as I massage your shoulders and whisper terribly sexy facts about magic and ancient history in your ear.”

Tem looked up again, a soft sigh escaping his lips, and Dorian knew he’d succeeded. “Alright. But if I start to fall asleep you’ll have to wake me up.”

“Why of course!” Dorian lied, and from the slight eye roll he got from the other, he knew it too.

He tugged on his wrists once more, this time getting the elf to his feet. He let go of one of his hands to allow him to gather up some papers and ink before leading him over to the couch situated next to the staircase. The bed would have been better, but he had a feeling Tem wouldn’t allow him to go that far. So he settled for sitting down on the couch, leaning against the armrest and patting the space between his legs until Tem sat down with a huff, leaning his back against Dorian’s chest and immediately launching into work.

Now that just wouldn’t do. Luckily Dorian had just the thing to get him to relax. He took one of his hands, coaxing it away from the papers before pressing a gentle kiss at each of his fingertips, tilting it back to reach the palm of his hand, his wrist, his elbow, the deep scar just below that, releasing it to brush his lips against his shoulder. Tem let out a soft breath, muscles relaxing as he leant back slightly further against the others chest, though his eyes were still trained firmly on the report he held in his hand.

Luckily Dorian was far from finished, placing both hands on his shoulders and pressing his thumbs into his hairline, getting another soft sigh from the body before him. He worked his thumbs down his neck, massaging his shoulders as he leant forward to whisper in his ear. “The first Inquisition was founded roughly a hundred years before the end of the ancient era.”

Tem laughed, not a soft or polite laugh, but a genuine, caught-off-guard one. “I already knew that.”

“Well it’s hardly my fault you've already consumed every history book known to man!" He paused, going through his mind in hope of finding something the elf might not know. His best bet was magic, maybe something on Tevinter… "Did you know magic was actually outlawed in Tevinter for a time?"

That made him pause. "I didn't."

Dorian grinned. "That's because I made it up."

Tem reached back to shove at his shoulder, making a show of being annoyed despite the smile clearly visible on his lips. The mage laughed, pressing a kiss to his temple. There was something about making Tem happy, something about making him smile, that lit Dorian from the inside out. It was something he didn't quite have the words for. Or perhaps he did. But that was too much too soon, not something to confess now, with death and destruction lurking around every corner.

He took a deep breath, pushing his fingers into Tem’s hair, finding the twine that kept his bun in place and tugging so that ruby red locks spilled down to his shoulders. There was something intimate about this. Well, the whole situation was rather intimate, but running his fingers through his hair, brushing out knots and twirling it around his fingers, just getting to see him with his hair down in general. It was private. Like a physical change to signify that polite mask coming off, the real man behind the fiction, the idol others built him up to be. And it was sort of sad, that after all this was done and they went on with their lives, this Themael would likely be forgotten, lost to time, hidden in the shadow of his own legend.

But for now Themael let out a content hum, the papers rustling as he set them down in his lap, apparently giving up on getting any more work done. “You’re making me fall asleep.” He mumbled, and Dorian could tell from the way his whole body relaxed, his breathing evening out.

“Amatus!” He whispered, feigning offense. “I would never do such a thing!”

Tem chuckled softly, leaning his head back to rest it against Dorian’s shoulder. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” And for perhaps not the first time in his life, Dorian wished he understood Elvish, if only so he could reply to that.

“Goodnight.” He said instead, knowing his lover was asleep when he got no answer.

Almost an hour later an Inquisition soldier came barging in, apparently having no sense of privacy, starting to say something about Cullen and the war room and Corypheus before she noticed the two men. She then blushed, sputtered something unintelligible, and promptly left with an apology, all while Dorian maintained his most threatening glare. So perhaps being the evil magister was good for something, if only to give their beloved Inquisitor the rest he so clearly deserved.


End file.
